


Like Dust in the Night

by jonsasnow



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, It's something, Jonsa Summer Challenge, Post Season 6, idk what it is, jonsa, kind of angsty wishful thinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 10:06:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11461365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonsasnow/pseuds/jonsasnow
Summary: Let his body be nimble, his mind sharp, and his heart strong.In the privacy of her own chambers, she whispered, “and let him come home to me.”





	Like Dust in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> for the jonsa summer challenge: day 1: food & drink

_His heart froze, icicles forming over his lungs. Jon could not breathe. He could only gasp for air that would never reach his lungs. Death was not a friend, but an old companion. He could greet it and welcome it back into his soul, like smoke inhaled into his bloodstream. But if he allowed it, he would never see her sweet face. He would never hear the sound of her laughter; or feel the warmth of her body against him. He was brought back once to serve only one great purpose – her. Jon could not leave this earthly plane until she was safe. He must fight against the dying light; he must dispel the ice from his heart and let his blood ebb crimson once more. For her, Jon will rise. He will fight; he will make it back._

Sansa woke with a start. Her heart pounded like war drums in the midst of battle. Grey eyes flashed in the waning darkness as the dream slipped through her consciousness. His presence in the castle had begun to disappear. She could no longer recall his solemn face as well as the first night without him. Sansa removed the furs from her sweat-soaked body and slipped her feet onto the cold stone floor. Light filtered in through her window, drawing long shadows along the walls – monsters and saviours battling it out for a new world. Sansa traced her fingers along the edges where the light met darkness and prayed. 

_Let his body be nimble, his mind sharp, and his heart strong._ In the privacy of her own chambers, she whispered, “and let him come home to me.” 

The knock on the door startled her. A long-faced maiden barely a day over ten and two ambled quickly into the room to place the morning’s food on the table. Sansa no longer wished to break fast in the Great Hall. It was so empty without him. Even in silence, they could sit side by side and she would still find peace in his company, but his absence made her heart ache. What was a wolf without her pack? A Stark without her Snow? 

“Thank you, Neerya,” Sansa spoke, voice still hoarse from sleep. She settled in the chair and eyed the bread roll and the thick, hard cheese. Times were tough now with winter upon them. Food was scarce with most crops unable to grow under the dense layer of snow – all of this Sansa knew. As Lady of Winterfell, it was her duty to the people to ensure they were all fed well enough to survive the winter, yet her stomach turned at the sight.

“Is something wrong, m’lady?” Neerya, who had been tidying the bed, looked upon Sansa with concern. She approached her slowly, a prey in the presence of a predator – a wolf. “Would you wish for something else? I could speak to the cook and –”

“The food is fine,” Sansa interrupted. Her voice held impatience that was unwarranted, and she sensed her mistake when Neerya flinched. “I apologise. I am not well this morn. Could you please let the lords and ladies know I will not be attending to any visitors today?”

“Shall I get the maester, m’lady?” 

“No, that will not be necessary. It will pass, Neerya. I just wish to rest today.”

“Yes, m’lady,” Neerya bowed her head and began to retreat. She stopped just a few paces shy from the door and turned. “Lord Baelish is waiting for you in your solar. What shall I tell him?” 

Sansa’s teeth clenched. If only she could tell him to return to the Vale and never show his face again in Winterfell lest he wished the same treatment done upon him as Ramsay, but Sansa bit her tongue. “The very same. No one is permitted up here without my knowledge. Do you understand, Neerya?” 

The young maiden bowed once more and left. The quiet immediately swelled around the room, like mist rolling over the fields at the sun’s first light. Unassuming, beautiful, _dangerous_ – Sansa could acutely hear the rise and fall of her breaths and wondered if there was still air in his lungs. Did his heart still beat as rhythmically as hers? 

She poked the bread roll with the tip of her knife.

_“Eat.”_

_Sansa glanced at him and wondered how he could when her stomach twisted and turned like a snowstorm inside of her. “I’m afraid have no appetite tonight.”_

_“Sansa,” he said, his voice chiding and worried all at once. “Please. Winter is here and you will need your strength.”_

_“And you?” She was still watching him as he was her, their eyes meeting in a battle of wills; but she could not look away even if her fight waned, even if he won. His eyes held a million stories and a million more songs. She wanted to learn them all._

_“This will be your last hot meal for some time,” she said. “You should have some of mine.” She tried to place her bread roll onto his plate, but Jon’s hand caught her wrist and stilled her movements. The contact sent a shiver up her spine. The slight crease between his brows suggested he felt it too._

_“I am eating,” Jon told her. She felt fragile under his grip, like any slight movement would render her bones to dust and she would drift away with the winds, swallowed into the stars above. But she felt strong too, his touch igniting wildfire in her blood._

_He loosened his grip, fingers lightly descending down her palm so he could hold her hand. “You needn’t worry for me. I will come home.”_

_“Many die in war, Jon,” she said, as she squeezed his hand. “You cannot promise me things out of your control. You may die tomorrow.”_

_Jon smiled, and though it angered her how he could not see why she fretted so, her heart eased its hold on her lungs and danced at the sight. “Is this the send off the Lady of Winterfell wishes to give her king?”_

_“You’re not being serious,” she said._

_The smile faltered and he sighed, rubbing his thumb over the inside of her wrist. Mayhaps they both will break apart into dust and float away to the stars. At least then he would be safe._

_With her._

_“I am very serious, Sansa,” Jon told her softly. “Home is here. Home is where you are. I will come back. With my last breath, I promise you.”_

Tears slipped past her resolve. Sansa wiped them hastily and turned the food away. She could not bear the sight when he could be out there dying, bleeding and alone, and without her. How could she when he had taken her heart with him? It did not matter anymore what the world may say of them, what even she thought of them because here in her chambers with images of his death running through her mind, Sansa cared very little. All she needed was for him to come home to her; for his arms to wrap themselves around her and his lips to press against her skin, whispering that it would all be okay. 

“Oh Jon, where are you?”


End file.
